Volume 2 No 3 (2008)
Scape: On a Journey
Avianti Armand
Osaka, 24th of March. It was spring, quite an early one. Blossoms should have started to bloom, but none was to be seen. Thick clouds filled the sky, allowing no rays of sunshine to filter through. A light drizzle fell from the sky, a grey rain that coated all colors dull. The view from the rapid train windows was an ocean of rooftops. Scattered, but still in order. Houses are separated from one another by a small gap, just enough for each to breathe. Above them, endless spread of wires crisscrossed the sky. The rhythmic sound of the train created a deafening sound, broken only by a robotic female voice announcing, in Japanese, the name of every approaching station. We were always in constant alarm, exchanging glances, communicating in silence, ‘Are we there yet?’. Nobody wanted to be left behind.
Day one. We had only arrived few hours in Japan, and yet we were already attacked by so many things. The extremely cold weather. Yes, we were warned. Yet, we were still shocked by it. Strange signs and signage, kept us from getting lost, but still too many to digest. Vending machines shined brightly, tempting us like moths to a flame. In a matter of minutes, each of us had chosen a bottle or a can from the machines. Foreign words, hung low between floors and ears meaninglessly, they were more like murmurs. People attended to their business briskly, leaving us floating like particles without gravity. Kansai airport, as friendly as it can be, still was a foreign land to us. ‘Why are we here?’
Walk Like An Architect
An excursion or a journey has, for a long time, been a process that is considered necessary by architects who seek for deeper meanings in life. A pilgrimage towards answers and self-discovery. Name any great architect: Le Corbusier, Steven Holl, or Tadao Ando. They have all done the great tour in their lifetime. Following their paths, here we are, a group of twenty one people that mostly consist of architects or from other professions related to architecture. Two of us are, originally, fashion photographers, but they too have great interest in architecture. We all flew thousands of miles, leaving our homeland behind, ready for an architectural quest.
Each of us had a beautifully designed guidebook that consists of day to day itineraries of buildings to be visited. Each object had two or three beautiful photographs to help us recognize each one, and details - very accurate details - of how to get there; the exact time of trains, buses, and ferries. We were also equipped with various gadgets to document all the buildings on the list; including the latest and the most sophisticated digital camera and video camera. Architecture became the final destination. The glorious light at the end of a long dark tunnel. Is that truly what architecture is all about? Was that in actuality what those great architects were searching for?
Let us take a little step backward before we come to this conclusion; to the buildings, the objective of our search. Let us focus on the act that enables us to arrive at every destination, the walk.
‘The act of crossing space stems from the natural necessity to move to find food and information required for survival. But once the basic needs have been satisfied, walking takes on a symbolic form that has enabled man to dwell in the world. By modifying the sense of space crossed, walking becomes man’s first aesthetic act, penetrating the territory of chaos, constructing an order on which to develop the architecture of situated objects.’ (Careri, 2002)
By walking, roaming in space, drifting in the city, getting lost, we let our self come face to face with unexpected objects. The place, time and space become real, accessible, and sensible, therefore creating an experience. They exist and surround us in every sense. They reveal themselves to be acknowledged and understood. These are the real things that create context for architecture. These are the essence captured by those great architects and realized into architecture. Without these essences, architecture would be hollow and meaningless. It will still be a building, but doubtful as architecture.
Since architecture has always been and will be stretched between ideas and reality, abstraction and conception, this act of walking, this architectural quest, this other architectural world that lies beyond is therefore investigated. It is a world that consists of many different scapes.
The word ‘scape’ is derived from ‘landscape’. First recorded in 1598, it was borrowed as a terminology in the 16th century, when Dutch artists pioneered the landscape genre. The Dutch word landschap had previously meant as simply a ‘region, tract of land’ but had acquired the artistic sense, which is brought over into English as ‘a picture depicting scenery on land.’
Later on, the meaning of the word expanded into spread or extension, which had more layers and depth, where we can find texture, taste, color, contrast, nuance, diversity, and similarity. The scape can either be real, or can be as subtle as mist. But it is not always hidden, many times it is naked before our eyes. It is not always beautiful, or immediately steal our attention. It is not always clear, and often too abstract to be easily understood. Still, they exist, one way and another, to represent, not only architecture, but further more, our existence.
True, great buildings emanate soul that can touch our very senses, influence us, inspire us, remain in our memory, and become a solid background in our mind. But, architecture cannot stand alone as one omnipotent object. Let us walk like an architect. Indeed, the camera never lies. But in this case, we need more than a camera to capture the scapes which constitute architecture, we need sensitivity.
Mind Scape
Osaka 5.30 am. The sky was blue. The buildings were black, dotted with neatly arrayed lamps. Apparently, we were not the only ones that were up early. As we rushed to the train station, we passed many people speeding like bullets to different directions. The chaotic atmosphere on the platform froze instantly on the train. Japanese people don’t talk to one another on the train. They sleep, read, or just simply stare away. Look at those faces. Behind those blank expressions, they hide amazing things that makes Japan as it is today; a kingdom of porn comics, heaven of electronic gadgets, the world of high end fashions and lifestyle, and avant garde architecture.
What is inside their head? The same sadness and worries we have? The same excitement and anger? Passion and lust? Joy? Happiness? Is it the same contour of mindscape? Whatever it is, theirs oozed out, changing the face of the city, the country, even the world. Architecture begins as abstract concepts. They are basic ideas that the architect has in stock. Here, sitting in the same train, sharing the same space and air, can we reshape our mindscape to a degree, at least, close to them? Look at our faces…
Vending Machine Scape
In Japan, many of things differentiate big cities to the small ones. Vending machines are not one of them. They become inseparable parts of the cities, big or small. Their existences have become an oasis for travelers, everyday necessities that include women sanitary napkins. The machines shine bright and hum silently. They represent an era when human labor has become so expensive, even the simplest economic transaction has to be done by machine. No smiles, no friendly greetings. Just the clinking sounds of swallowed coins and loud bumps of falling cans or bottles.
Vending machines, whether we notice them or not, bring us back to our primitive instinct, which live first of all from food, not from clothes, fashion, lifestyle, let alone architecture. The very sight of them suddenly creates an urge to automatically search for small coins in your pocket. The same coins which are not accepted in flagship stores along Omotesando – Aoyama, face to face with vending machines, they become tickets to a heaven of drinks. In the fast ocean of human movement, vending machines have the power to stop time for one or two second, just for a short stop, a brief thought. To buy or not to buy? That is the question.
If we create a graphic of the city and its movement in dots, lines, and planes, those vending machines will be represented as dots, with lines that link each machines, representing their areas of influence, superimposed with people in their stops, their movements; their lives.
Sound Scape
All of a sudden, we were spit into an ocean of a different sound scape. A foreign language that seem to come from a deeper part of the stomach, full of stress and certainty, as if life is not indefinite. The train. It’s always the train. The sound of the train fills the air, rendering the life of every Japanese, and yet never become a native in their own land. Always a stranger. They come and go. Arrive and depart. Loud at the beginning, but always fades away. A rushing sound. A passionate sound. The sound of people working. The brisk of cherry tree leaves. The brisk of clothes as people pass by. The sound of a falling can from the vending machine. The swishing sound of closing train doors. School girls chatting and laughing. An old man coughing. The cheerful greeting of waiters and waitresses every time we step inside a restaurant. The ticking of the traffic light. There are less cars in the city center of Tokyo than Jakarta, where the sound of car engine and horns is the new silence running in the life of the city. Yes, life is so busy. And sound has marked it from dusk till dawn, giving different character to different place, different time and space. Are you listening?
Wire Scape
Buildings, cities, the world, are like sick people. Their bodies are connected with wires to support their lives. Wire this, wire that. From electricity, telephone lines, TV cable, data cable, etc. Unplugged, they will be dead. We are dependent to wires in everyday life; to cook, to bath, to wash clothes, to turn lights on in the night, to communicate with relatives on the other side of the world, to breath fresher air, to power the trains, to entertain ourselves, to send news all over the world, be it good be or bad, to send love, to feel happy, to live.
The existence is real, but barely noticeable. Do we care, when designing a building, of the wires in front of the site? Do we want to signify the existence or remove them from visibility? Do we think they are beautiful or just eyesores? Do we realize that this architectural quest to seek for buildings can only happen with the help of many invisible forces contained in those wires? The uses of wireless connections are still limited. For now, and may be for years to come, we have to live with it. Wired.
Food Scape
Before food, and God, every body is the same. A country is characterized by its people, landscapes, i cultures, literatures, and of course, its food. Walking through the cities of Japan is like diving into sea of scents, each representing a certain food. Morning air will be rendered with smell of freshly brewed coffee, newly baked bread, and hot chocolate. Later in the day, they will be replaced by the scents of curry, seaweed, udon, ramen, crunchy fried tempura, tea leaves, and many more. All floating endlessly under our nose.
Food scape in Japan is composed not only by its various scents, but more over by its visual display. Eating is not just a matter of serving food on plates. Japanese people arrange the food like an offering to their gods, with sincerity that makes it not only beautiful, but a piece of art. Pieces of sushi and sashimi are always tidily arrayed like colorful beads on a wooden trays. The bento box is as beautiful as a wrapped present from Takashimaya. Inside, the ingredients are separated neatly by partitions to prevent them from getting mixed with one another. Compared to the beautifully designed bento, the nasi bungkus will pale in comparison. Even the Japanese plastic food that are displayed on a restaurant’s glass windows are amazingly irresistible. The sight of them stops us in our tracks, out of admiration, out of self reflection for totality. In that brief moment, we come realize how important food is to our life. Not just as something we take for granted. How can the global giants, such as Starbucks, Mac Donalds, or KFC, beat that?
Railway Scape
In Japan, is there anywhere the railways do not go? They seem to be everywhere. Like bloodlines. Like air. They pulsate with amazingly precise beats, only separated by seconds. For us Indonesians, accustomed to the elasticity of time, this precision comes as a shock. Every day, millions of people share a moment in their lives together, traveling the railways from place to place. Imagine how many stories are transferred in a single hour. The railways transport not only people, but also goods, money, information, orders, good deeds, and sins. The railways is an accelerator in the life of the cities. Cities without railways run in only half speed, or maybe even one fourth. Creating changes in the blink of an eye. Turning evolutions into revolutions. Bringing life to the cities. They are the life of the cities.
Neon Light Scape
Big cities never sleep. Neither does Osaka. Nor Tokyo. Days and nights are only marked with the change of light. If the sun shines all day long, neon light will do through the night. People rush in the street, chat in cafes, work hard to fill their pocket, shop hard to empty their pocket, find relaxation in gardening, play golf, play sex, play safe…. Not a single eye will be closed because the world is forever bright. Every metropolis has for long only had vertical horizon. The end of every street is blocked by just another building. Skies are half swallowed by the tops of skyscrapers, leaving only limited space for the stars and moon to glow.
I remember a time in my childhood, when I was traveling with my father from town to town in an old army car. Nighttime would mean total darkness, a black color that erased the border between the sky and the earth. The only light source of light was our car headlights. As we pass a wide spread of rice fields, I saw that the stars were hanging so close to the ground, they touched the tips of the black rice leaves. My father told me they were fireflies. I still believe, up until now, that they were stars, sent to greet me.
In some parts of Tokyo, neither moon, nor stars, could compete with their brightness of the blasted, glorious, noisy, neon lights. How do you recognize architecture in these blinding lights?
Signage Scape
Have you ever been lost in translation? The signage will guide you. They are like clues in the city map. They are information nodes that connect one place to another. The purpose of their existence is to bring us to the right place. But sometimes, they are confusing. Even disgusting because there are too many of them. But, signage always has a reason, a purpose. Either we realize it or not, in every journey, we always look for them. Their presence influence and take part in shaping the contours, the ups and downs, of our emotional condition. In a rush, it is depressing to see the time tables that show the departure time of our train is still in half an hour. The appearance of names of places we are looking for add to our excitement. The word ‘close’ in a restaurant door does kill the appetite. The price of food with too many digits refrain us from eating in a restaurant. A sign with a crossed out symbol of the camera provoke our criminal instinct to secretly steal a picture. Can a building be free from signage? Or are they inborn, embedded in the life of architecture?
Roof Scape
We were not flying, nor gliding. We were hovering between sky and earth. Train commuting brought us to this peculiar level, not high enough in the sky to feel free, only a few meters above the rooftops to still be able to recognize textures, size, colors, and the years that consumed them.
Our experiences with roofs have always been as shelters upon our head. Different perspective give different understanding to what we see. From here, every single building we knew diffused into anonymous identities. These spread of roofs seemed to be unstable, unsure, like sand, which can be easily reshaped by the change of wind. Each roof, like an upside down book, hides a story of birth and death, of marriage and dishonesty, of trust and love, of histories and hopes. Every crack between them, leak something. As life consists of many different stories, these roofs compose an undulating scape. Not always beautiful, but enough to emanate life. The ability to stand on different levels of height might have changed our perception of roofs. Since we would not always be beneath them, we would never again ignore how their look could change the contour of the city.
Meaning, Depth and Self Discovery, Are They There?
Worn out. Freezing. Starving. The prickly shower made it worse. As I arrived at one of the buildings on the list, understanding these scapes helped me to understand better. The architecture, iconic as I had imagined, told different stories.
There are more scapes than the ones mentioned above that continually change and compose a city, and everything else within. They give different perspectives from one person to another. They may not be directly related to architecture, but they are the context that constitute and build the whole meaning of the place. Every place has its own scapes and, of course, soul. But meaning, depth, and self discovery, do not just lay there to be found. It actually does not depend on the place, but rather on how we search for it.
In the end, an architectural quest, like many other quests in the world, will lead us back home.
Reference
Careri, Francesco (2002). Walkscapes. Land & Scape Series, GG..
This writing has also been published in Haikk!, Andramatin’s first book, published by Borneo Publication, a book on architecture and ordinary life in Japan.